"Stop this!" came sternly from Frank Merriwell, who was also on his way to the campus.
"Let me get at him!" Bart panted, trying to wrench away. "He ran into me and tried to knock me down just now. I can't stand it! I won't stand it!"
"Oh, let him come on!" the Westerner grated. "I've been aching for a crack at him for a month! I'll polish him off in short order, if you will just let him come on! He thinks because he knocked me out once that he can do it again!"
"If you fellows are determined to fight, I'll arrange for you to get at each other some time, but you are not going to fight here, and that is flat!"
"Oh, well, let it go!" said Bart, with intense bitterness and disgust. "I'll not trouble him here. But if we ever do come up against each other, I'll hammer the life out of him!"
"I don't doubt you'd kill me if you could!" the Kansan sneered. "I rather think you tried it the other day."
"What do you mean?" Bart demanded, again bristling. "Do you mean the shell that blew up the gun?"
"It's strange you can guess so easy!" Badger insinuated.
"See here, Badger," said Frank, who had stepped between the belligerents. "You insult me when you intimate that Bart knew anything about that shell. That shell was slipped into my box by Morton Agnew. I have discovered enough already to convince me of that. I saw him do something to-day, too, which puts a big club into my hand!"
Badger's face changed, but he would not admit that he might be wrong in laying the dastardly deed at the door of Bart Hodge.